“What! that that young man is an assassin?”
“Who said that? What makes you think that poor young fellow
could be an assassin?”
“The very thing I was saying. A crime was committed in his
house,” said Aramis, “and that was quite sufficient; perhaps
he saw the criminals, and it was feared that he might say
something.”
“The deuce! if I only thought that —- ”
“Well?”
“I would redouble the surveillance.”
“Oh, he does not seem to wish to escape.”
“You do not know what prisoners are.”
“Has he any books?”
“None; they are strictly prohibited, and under M. de
Mazarin’s own hand.”
“Have you the writing still?”
“Yes, my lord; would you like to look at it as you return to
take your cloak?
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“I should, for I like to look at autographs.”
“Well, then, this one is of the most unquestionable
authenticity; there is only one erasure.”
“Ah, ah! an erasure; and in what respect?”
“With respect to a figure. At first there was written: `To
be boarded at fifty francs.'”
“As princes of the blood, in fact?”
“But the cardinal must have seen his mistake, you
understand; for he canceled the zero, and has added a one
before the five. But, by the by —- ”
“What?”
“You do not speak of the resemblance.”
“I do not speak of it, dear M. de Baisemeaux, for a very
simple reason — because it does not exist.”
“The deuce it doesn’t.”
“Or, if it does exist, it is only in your own imagination;
but, supposing it were to exist elsewhere, I think it would
be better for you not to speak about it.”
“Really.”
“The king, Louis XIV. — you understand — would be
excessively angry with you, if he were to learn that you
contributed in any way to spread the report that one of his
subjects has the effrontery to resemble him.”
“It is true, quite true,” said Baisemeaux, thoroughly
alarmed; “but I have not spoken of the circumstance to any
one but yourself, and you understand, monseigneur, that I
perfectly rely on your discretion.”
“Oh, be easy.”
“Do you still wish to see the note?”
“Certainly.”
While engaged in this manner in conversation, they had
returned to the governor’s apartments; Baisemeaux took from
the cupboard a private register, like the one he had already
shown Aramis, but fastened by a lock, the key which opened
it being one of a small bunch of keys which Baisemeaux
always carried with him. Then placing the book upon the
table, he opened it at the letter “M,” and showed Aramis the
following note in the column of observations: “No books at
any time; all linen and clothes of the finest and best
quality to be procured; no exercise; always the same jailer;
no communications with any one. Musical instruments; every
liberty and every indulgence which his welfare may require,
to be boarded at fifteen francs. M. de Baisemeaux can claim
more if the fifteen francs be not sufficient.”
“Ah,” said Baisemeaux, “now I think of it, I shall claim
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it.”
Aramis shut the book. “Yes,” he said, “it is indeed M. de
Mazarin’s handwriting; I recognize it well. Now, my dear
governor,” he continued, as if this last communication had
exhausted his interest, “let us now turn to our own little
affairs.”
“Well, what time for repayment do you wish me to take? Fix
it yourself.”
“There need not be any particular period fixed; give me a
simple acknowledgment for one hundred and fifty thousand
francs.”
“When to be made payable?”
“When I require it; but, you understand, I shall only wish
it when you yourself do.”
“Oh, I am quite easy on that score,” said Baisemeaux,
smiling; “but I have already given you two receipts.”
“Which I now destroy,” said Aramis; and after having shown
the two receipts to Baisemeaux, he destroyed them. Overcome
by so great a mark of confidence, Baisemeaux unhesitatingly
wrote out an acknowledgment of a debt of one hundred and
fifty thousand francs, payable at the pleasure of the
prelate. Aramis, who had, by glancing over the governor’s